


Velocity

by Zealkin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 14:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9766769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zealkin/pseuds/Zealkin
Summary: You drift, but he holds you to the shore.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kneesspaghetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kneesspaghetti/gifts).



> Also for Deb! I couldn't choose just one! <3

* * *

 

 

You are good at noticing him pretend not to notice you.

When you sit together during meals he is a calm presence by your side, an anchor neither of you established, but recognize as such regardless.

Maybe that's why, when one of the younger soldiers passes, a happy-go-lucky girl who had idolized Overwatch since childhood, he is there beside you.

 

You cannot remember the girl's face anymore.

She wasn't one of the more popular members. She was just as dedicated, just as intense, but it hadn't been enough. _She_ hadn't been enough. You look down at your own hands, clenched-- they are shaking. Your mouth dry. How close are you to being faceless, you wonder.

He says his own form of prayer and you force yourself to still so as not to disturb him.

"I'm not like the rest of you," you say when he finishes. 

You can hear him turn toward you, but he doesn’t respond. Another prayer is on his lips before you can say anything else.

“I’m not a hero.”

The rest of his prayer falters, unfinished, and you do not let him see your face.

You could die, too, any day. This is one of those days that the reminder is more pertinent, more pressing. It suffocates you.

His hand finds your neck, then races up to cup your cheeks. Your hands unfurl.

He holds you close and your heart is louder than his modified one you're sure of, but he doesn't push you away.

"I'm glad you're here, anyway."

You shake your head, but his hold stays true.

“Staying is heroic, too.”

You allow yourself to breathe, for the first time after the funeral it's a little easier.

Maybe you aren’t a hero of renown, and maybe you might be written off in history as arbitrary, unimportant, and dull.

But here in his arms, you feel as if that doesn’t matter.

 

Here you can finally exhale.

 

 You train hard the next day. And, when you turn, he is there at your side.

 

 


End file.
